5particle: Georgetown, Malaysia

Leaving Ton Sai I grabbed a boat with the lady from the Ting Tong coffee house, who's coffee machine had broken from our overuse (she was getting a repair in Au Nang). I got a tuk-tuk to Krabi and hopped on a bus to Trang to catch a train into Malaysia. I woke up on the bus WAY later than my expected arrival time in Trang. I got up and explained to the conductor and in a second the bus has stopped and I was on the side of the road. The bus ditched me at the side of the road. I crossed, stuck my thumb out and started walking. Within 5 minutes a little car stopped containing a man, a woman and two kids (who eyed this big ugly beardy man with much suspicion). The father was most interested in practising English so we spoke of countries and football most of the way until a police checkpoint meant he had to swap driving positions with his wife, as he had no licence. At Trang we exchanged email addresses (as you do) and they waved me off. I then found out that there's no train from Trang to Penang. My research was slightly wrong. I booked a coach for the next morning. I decided to have a look around a busy food market but soon wished I hadn't when extreme tiredness kicked in, and people looking, smiling and trying to talk to me went from being entertaining to a paranoid nightmare. I went straight back to the hotel and slept.

Next morning an 8am bus took me to Hatyai where I changed to a minibus at midday. The border was painless, although an eyebrow was raised and a chin scratched at why I had a 30 day visa stamp, but he realised it could not possibly be my error and set me loose into Malaysia. The three-lane, left-hand drive, raised motorway with metal barriers, hard tree-lined shoulder, European/Asian expensive cars and light rain dramatically reminded me of England. The only thing that brought me back to reality were the three Indonesian kids singing twinkle twinkle little star to me.

Someone recommended Penang to me. I had no idea what to expect when I got there; I had no hostel booked; I didn't even know the currency. The bus dropped me off and I found an ATM. I took out 500 Ringgits as it seemed like a good amount! I then found wi-fi and checked where I was and where I could find a dormitory. I was fortunately very close to the old area of Georgetown. I strolled up Love Lane in ridiculous heat, noticeably hotter than Thailand. I had a good feeling about a hostel called "Red Inn" and I was greeted by a beaming receptionist called Lyn. When I was there the whole place was being run by three staff: 1 day reception, 1 night reception and 1 cleaner / breakfast cook. The Chinese owner didn't give any recognition of their hard work. He had CCTV and could monitor the staff from his cell phone, occasionally calling if something wasn't right or he thought the staff should push beer and snacks to the guests!

The lovely Lyn, pushing beer!

There's tons to do in Georgetown anyway, but with a week of music, arts, performance, street shows and food stalls under the banner of the Georgetown festival, coupled with all of the great people I met, I ended up staying for two solid weeks. The food, oh the food! I'm dribbling at the thought. I don't even know where to begin with it. Georgetown food is so good, and varied, that you can actually get a (slightly confusing) food map. Me and my good Russian friend followed this map to come extent, slurping delicious Chinese noodles, scoffing chicken tandoori's, munching Malaysian Laksa and topping with spicy samosa when peckish.

Fire!

At the Ros Mutiara tandoori restaurant the garlic naan tandoori set is second to NONE!

Urban sketchers were in town

Family photo at the Myanmar temple

Between the scorching sunshine it rained... a lot

The beautiful houses of Bangkok street and the Thai temple

The Manganiyar seduction at the local theatre - amazing!

Circle of Sound

Prizes if you can name them all

The most famous street-art in Georgetown

My birthday this year was particularly worldly with attendees from Russia, The Philippines, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Switzerland, China and Japan. On the menu was some Chinese rice with some Malaysian satay, washed down with some chilled (Lyn insisted it should be chilled), imported French red which was reserved for this occasion, even though I had to pay for it. A drunk street artist from Singapore very kindly gave me a great little picture he'd painted on his phone and printed. From the Chinese wholesaler behind the hostel came some rum and brandy, which, for soaking-up purposes, forced a 3am rainy raid on a burger trolley called "Old Trafford". Keeping with the tradition of football related meat outlets there wasn't really any meat in the burger, and what meat there was looked highly suspicious, but with more alcohol than blood in the pipes it was a damn fine burger!